The final day.
Main coliseum.
Forty thousand people screaming like the world was ending.
Money goal: complete.
I could forfeit, disappear, and nap for the next century.
But the champion prize this year was an unreleased royal SSS-class magic tool.
Collector brain activated.
Must. Have. It.
So I walked out under the spotlight in the cursed Hanamegane, red hair, fake name, zero chill.
The announcer lost his voice from excitement.
"—The unstoppable dark horse of Block A!
He erased Gran Roubaust, toyed with Sword-Dance Princess Arrowle, and deleted Dark Sorcerer Wise in a blink!
D-class adventurer? More like walking catastrophe—
Magic Bullet User, Reiji Layo!"
The roar nearly ruptured my eardrums.
Then my opponent entered.
"First-time finalist!
He never attacked once—just stood there and let opponents break themselves on his defense!
The man the crowd loves to hate—Turtle Hero!
A-rank [Hard] Hero, Lord Schwach!"
Instant tsunami of boos.
Vegetables flew.
One guy threw a shoe.
Lord flipped his silver bangs with maximum drama.
"Worldly slander cannot touch my absolute existence! I am singular—"
His knees were knocking so hard the sound echoed.
"Your legs are shaking."
"Illusion! My spirit is forged of orichalcum!"
He was two seconds from crying.
Also: full black assassin cosplay, heterochromia contacts, bandaged arms "sealing my true power," and a cloak that screamed "I'm seventeen and this is deep."
I felt my soul physically leave my body.
The whistle blew.
I started charging the usual instant-win volley…
…when Lord struck the ultimate pose.
"Magic Bullet User. Futile.
For I am the [Hard] Hero—
"Abyss Observer"!"
I stopped, stunned. Not activating my spell just yet.
Lord kept going, eyes sparkling like a cultist.
"I am the one who destroys all evil—
Awaiting the return of My King and his loyal retainer Barret—
Behold my holy scripture!"
He pulled out a thick, jet-black book.
Cover: skull-dragon hybrid.
Title in dripping crimson:
"Abyss Catastrophe Genesis – The Book of Kings"
Author: The Zero
My thirteen-year-old self screamed from the afterlife. That book was something I wrote for fun. Why did he have it?
Lord hugged it like a baby.
"This is the only surviving copy! I found it half-burned and restored it with repair magic a thousand times! Jealous?"
I remembered everything.
Seven years ago.
I was actively trying to become the King/Hero.
I wrote a 400-page self-insert bible, named myself "The Zero," invented a retainer named Barret, and renamed "Absolute Defense" to "Abyss Observer" because it sounded cooler.
Then I set it on fire and yeeted it off a cliff.
Apparently, the fire went out. This guy somehow saved the book.
Lord was still preaching.
"Soon My King shall—"
"Give. Me. That. Book."
My voice came out dead.
Lord blinked.
"Heh. Of course you desire the scripture of The Zero! But this is my—"
I was already walking forward.
Lord finally felt the killing intent and panicked.
""Indestructible Fortress – Eternal Black Tortoise"!!"
Twenty layers of emperor-class barriers snapped into existence, looking similar to huge tortoise shells. They were dome-sized.
I didn't stop.
One step.
Two steps.
On the third step I raised my hand.
Ten thousand magic circles bloomed behind me like a starry sky made of murder.
Lord's voice cracked into puberty and back.
"W-wait! I'll let you read chapter seven! Chapter seven is really good—"
I snapped my fingers.
Ten thousand circles compressed into a single pure-white lance the width of a house.
Lord tried to add more layers.
Twenty-five. Thirty. Thirty-five.
Didn't matter.
The lance fired.
It punched through thirty-five layers of "absolute" defense like tissue paper, slowed just enough not to kill him, and gently tapped Lord between the eyes.
The remaining force launched him backward.
He flew in a perfect arc, cloak flapping like a broken raven, and embedded upside-down in the arena wall with a Lord-shaped crater.
The referee's flag trembled.
"W-winner… Reiji!"
Forty thousand people were silent for one beautiful heartbeat.
Then the laughter started—first a ripple, then a tidal wave.
I opened the book and read the first page aloud through wind amplification so the entire stadium could hear.
Princess Elena was crying happy tears, clapping for her flower glasses.
Two more matches.
Then the prize tool is mine.
And then I leave this continent.
Maybe the next one.
Or the one after that.